What never was
by insert-generic-penname-here
Summary: au. Jim dies. "Will joined him. They lived, and danced as they watched Jim crumble to dust, as they laughed. They lived. Mostly."


**_AU: Jim dies_**

_Ba boom_.

"Dance, Will! Dance, and smile, and don't look at him! Dance, Will!"

Mr Halloway threw his hands up, up, up into the air, forced a glaring smile, and pleaded to his son. Will joined him. Tears streaming with choked laughter, false as a response to an unfunny joke, Will joined him. Listless hands in the air, waving until they found purpose. He forced a smile. Will joined him. They lived, and danced as they watched Jim crumble to dust, as they laughed. They lived. Mostly.

_Ba boom._

_Ba boom. _

Will did not move that night, choosing instead to brave the dark, the cold, the moon. He lay, curled in a ball, next to what once was Jim. Mr Halloway patted his shoulder twice, and walked back to the house, glancing over his shoulder only once. He could not force himself to look again at the dark, elongated silhouette of what may be his son. He didn't recognise him. Mr Halloway glanced over his shoulder only once. Will did not look up at the retreating figure of his father. Will did not look up at the retreating figure. Will did not look up.

_Ba boom._

_Ba boom. _

Mrs Halloway looked up at the figure in the door. "Will?" The figure stepped forward, into the warming light of the artificial sun in the hall. "Oh Charles! Hullo! Oh, I've been so worried! Where's Will?"

Charles Halloway shook his head, once, and said: "Will is fine."

It did little to quell Mrs Halloway's nerves.

_Ba boom._

_Ba boom. _

Will woke at the break of dawn and remembered a half crescent moon in a bullet. He did not go to wake Jim. Jim was dead. Will remembered grey-green eyes. He tried not to.

Will stretched like a cat before getting to his feet. He started to run with a destination.

Up steps, three, six, nine, twelve! Slap! One palm hit the library door. He passed countries with no consequence, till he reached what he was looking for. One book. 'The mystery of Fu Manchu'. He ran home alone, and no rocks smashed any windows that night. Any night.

_Ba boom._

_Ba boom._

Mrs Halloway looked up at the figure in the door. A stranger that was her son, older and lankier and darker, but if she tilted her head and squinted, maybe...

"Hello." She said.

"Hullo." The stranger said.

For the first time in 13 years, Mrs Halloway feared death.

_Ba boom._

_Ba boom._

Mrs Nightshade looked up at no-one in the door.

She started to pray.

_Ba boom._

_Ba boom._

Over the next year, Mr Halloway went to bed at the same time as his wife. Will took down the lightening rod. Mrs Nightshade prayed. The town turned mortal, and Will ran alone. The wind howled on the good days, was silent on the bad, and, at midnight of the 31st, it blew out 15 candles. Will read the art of war. He was half way through the tragic life and death of Dr Faustus when he decided the autumn people had nothing on him. He ran, and a little bit of the town died as they felt him leave.

He saw the world, and brought with him a sound of cotton candy, pianos, and dust.

_Ba boom._

"Beware the autumn people… For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life…For these beings, fall is the ever normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where did he come from? The dust. Where will he go? The grave. Does blood stir in his veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in his head? The worm. What speaks from his mouth? The toad. What sees from his eyes? The snake. What hears with his ear? The abyss between the stars. He sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. He frenzies forth. In gusts he beetle-scurries, creeps, threads, filters, motions, makes all moons sullen, and surely clouds all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears him, trembles- breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of him."

_Ba boom_.

_Ba boom_.

Will Halloway was reborn that night, under that moon, with the retreating figure. He was born from the dust, and he shall die in a grave. He travels with a cape and black hat, and at night, the moon becomes somber and exciting. The leaves wither in his presence, and he brings a storm to every town he travelled. Dante is his comfort, bedtime story and source of hope. He does not look up.

_Ba boom._

_Ba boom._

Once-Will's-Mother died a mortal death, and was buried in mortal soil. Charles Halloway thought about changing his name. He told stories to children about magical circus' and reincarnated soldiers. He met dozens of Jim's, and a Will. He told them stories, and he did not die a mortal death. He was not buried in mortal soil. Instead, he became the Egyptian, American, Greek wind, and he was immortal. He was a story. Will Hathoway is buried, was buried the night he ran from his town. The autumn people are not people, and so, do not live, breathe, think or talk like people. Will Hathoway is dead. His body is not.

_Ba boom._

_.._

_Obviously, I own nothing. Idk. I felt like writing this, and like most things, it is better before you set it down on the metaphorical paper. Every thing belongs to Ray Bradbury, especially the quotes I took the liberty of changing. Peace._


End file.
